


Like Father, Like Son

by just_another_tinker



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Superfamily (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_tinker/pseuds/just_another_tinker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony’s breath stuttered, his brain coming to a screeching halt. </p><p>Howard. </p><p>That wasn’t right. Wasn’t it? Tony wasn’t Howard; he’d spent a whole lifetime proving that he wasn’t anything like that man. </p><p>Tony broke his eyes away from Steve, glancing back at his lab. His work bench was littered with papers, his tight scrawl covering them in indecipherable ramblings, the pages half covering a photo of Steve holding Peter for the first time. The Iron Man suit, staring blankly back at him, hung open, waiting for the new missiles Tony wanted to install. Lying innocently on the floor, Tony could see the wrench he had thrown at DUM-E earlier for another failed smoothie attempt. Coffee mugs were strewn about, but a sharp pain hit his chest when he realized that the liquid inside was amber instead of black.  </p><p>Oh, god. </p><p>No. No. No no no no no no. </p><p>He was Howard. </p><p>He was his father. </p><p>------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Avengers AU Based on Bones 8x15 - "The Shot in the Dark"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“So, what do you think?”

Tony stared at his suit hanging in front of him. The team’s latest encounter with Doom had left a few more dents than Tony was happy with. He was elbow deep in the armor, portable soldering iron clamped between his teeth.

“Tony?”

It seemed that most of the hits were along the flanks. Maybe extra shielding along the sides will account for that. But how will that affect his flight capabilities? Adding any sort of weight-

“Tony, you listening?”

could upset the current equilibrium of the suit. Maybe a different concentration of the alloy? Different concentrations mean different yield strengths. Scratch that, maybe he needs more ammo. He’d run out of missiles halfway through the fight, and repulsors could only do so much. They were constantly faced with new threats; Tony needed the best suit out there to get the job done.

“Tony!”

Tony jumped, his hand going instinctively to cover the arc reactor, the other raising the socket wrench defensively. He stuttered to a halt, however, when he was met with the steely blue eyes of his husband. _Dammit._ Tony knew that look. That unimpressed gaze with a hint of fond disapproval that nearly screamed ‘ _I know you aren’t listening to me.’_

Tony carefully lowered the socket wrench. “Yep,” he tried to cover, mouth popping at the end of his answer. “Good idea, Cap.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Remind me, what were we just talking about?”

Tony bit his lip. “Where we should get dinner?”

“You mean whether or not we should order in?” Steve prodded. Tony nodded slowly even though Steve’s tone already confirmed that he was wrong. “That conversation? The one we had because it was dinner time? You know, last night?”

Tony glanced over to the clock on the wall, deflating.

_11:47 A.M._

_Well, that’s not good._ A.M. meant morning, which meant he never went to bed last night. A bed, with which his favorite super soldier had been in. Alone. “Time flies when you’re having fun?” Tony tried to joke. The glare that Steve shot him was answer enough.  

While Tony had definitely gotten better at balancing SI, the Avengers, and home life, sometimes there just weren’t enough hours in the day. Pepper was constantly hounding him and the R&D department for ‘the next big thing’. He would never regret walking away from making weapons, but because of it, Tony was always trying to impress and maintain the investors he had left. SHIELD, of course, was relentless; Fury and his goons continuously on the prowl for new tech. Clint went through arrows like crazy, Natasha could always use more charge in her Widow Bites, and the armor could regularly stand to be better. Tony had learned he couldn’t afford to ever leave his armor functioning less than one hundred percent. He never knew when the world would need saving; he never knew when he would need to protect his family. And speaking of family, Steve may or may not have convinced Tony that adopting a baby was a sane thing to do. While Peter was the absolute light of his life, even he still needed some Tony time.  

“This is what I’m talking about, Tony,” Steve continued, pulling Tony away from his lab table. “You work too much.”

“Steve,” Tony started. He definitely didn’t want to get into this age old agreement.

“Tony,” Steve replied easily. “Come on, take a break. I was thinking we could take Peter out for lunch.”

“Can’t we just eat here? I swear, Steve. I’m almost done.”

“That’s what you said when I was going to bed. I promise the armor will still be here when you get back,” Steve continued, pushing Tony towards the door. “Today’s a great day for a picnic in Central Park.”

Tony whirled around, raising an eyebrow. “A picnic? Are those even a thing anymore?”

“Tony,” Steve sighed. “It’s a family thing; we’ll all be together,” argued Steve. “We’ll be creating memories for Peter.”

Tony snorted. “Steve, the kid is nine months old. He’s not gonna remember if we go on a picnic or not.”

Steve frowned at him. “He might not remember the picnic, but he’ll sure as hell remember if his father was there or not.”

Tony winced. Steve swearing did not mean good things. “Steve, I’ve got a whole lifetime of lunches to have with him. What’s wrong with me missing one?”

“Because one turns into two, and then two turns into a weeklong business trip, which turns into monthly sightings.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, Tony,” Steve said with exasperation, “is that you need to be there for our son.”

“Are you saying I’m not?”

“Tony, you just said that a picnic with him is a stupid idea.”

“He’s a baby, Steve! One meal is not going to define his life!”

“It’s not about the meal, Tony, it’s about spending time together! It’s about being a family!”

“So what, I’m not allowed down in the lab until Peter’s married with his own kids?”

“I’m not saying that,” Steve sighed. “All I’m saying is that we both have to make sacrifices if we’re going to raise him.”

“You don’t think I know that?!”

“Well, you certainly aren’t acting like you know!”

“I’m just working, Steve! What else do you want from me?” Tony snapped.

“Exactly! You’re _just_ working.”

“Steve,” Tony sighed, “we have an obligation to keep the world safe.”

“You have an obligation to be a father,” Steve snarled.

“An obligation that, if I remember correctly, wasn’t my idea,” Tony barked back, instantly regretting that words as they slipped from his mouth. Even if Peter had never been on his radar before, there was now no life that Tony could picture without him.

Steve scoffed, his face burning with rage. “Well, excuse me, _Howard._ I just thought it would be nice for his father to bond with his son,” he all but hissed.

Tony’s breath stuttered, his brain coming to a screeching halt.

_Howard._

That wasn’t right. Wasn’t it? Tony wasn’t Howard; he’d spent a whole lifetime proving that he wasn’t anything like that man.

Tony broke his eyes away from Steve, glancing back at his lab. His work bench was littered with papers, his tight scrawl covering them in indecipherable ramblings, the pages half covering a photo of Steve holding Peter for the first time. The Iron Man suit, staring blankly back at him, hung open, waiting for the new missiles Tony wanted to install. Lying innocently on the floor, Tony could see the wrench he had thrown at DUM-E earlier for another failed smoothie attempt. Coffee mugs were strewn about, but a sharp pain hit his chest when he realized that the liquid inside was amber instead of black.  

_Oh, god._

_No. No. No no no no no no._

He was Howard.

He was his father.

“Tony?” He turned, barely able to hear Steve other the pounding in his head. A hand came to rest on his shoulder but he jerked back quickly. Tony accidently met Steve’s eyes, finding a look that was probably just as haunted as his own face. “Tony, I-I…,” Steve started again, shaking his head slowly. “I didn’t mean… God, Tony, it just slipped out.”

Steve was reaching for him again, but he dodged, backing away towards the suit. Tony was on fire even as his body froze over, searing tears burning as they spilled out over his now ashen cheeks. “Tony, _please._ I’m so sorry, I really didn’t -”

But Tony wasn’t listening anymore.

He spun quickly, rushing the last few steps until his body met the armor, the metal already shaping around his body. He could still hear Steve shouting at him, but Tony just blasted off, the damaged armor taking into a graceless flight.  

He had warned Steve. He had told him, _pleaded_ with him.

Getting Peter wasn’t the right move. He wasn’t cut out for it. He couldn’t do it.

But Steve had laughed, whispering promises and dreams into his ears as he showed him a picture of a tiny boy wrapped in a blanket. _“I believe in you,”_ he had said. _“I don’t know what I’m doing either, so let’s be lost together. Peter needs us. He needs you, Tony. You’ll be perfect for him, I just know it.”_

But Steve was wrong.

There was a time when Tony would have laughed, jesting that yet again, he’d proven his husband wrong. But not this time.

Tony didn’t want to be right.

But he was.

Tony didn’t want to be him.

But he was.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony sat in the empty lab, twirling a screwdriver between his fingers. A Doombot lay in front of him; no doubt left by Fury, hoping Tony could crack open a few secrets. But Tony couldn’t get his mind to focus. He sighed, dropping the screwdriver on top of the mess in front of him, pushing away from his chair to look at the clock.

Lunch had come and gone, dinner as well, but Tony hadn’t even thought about going back home. Usually, when needed to get away, he would lock himself in his lab at the tower. However, seeing as there was still a possibility that it was still being overrun by an aggravated World War II relic, Tony had opted to hide out in his lab at the Avengers base in upstate New York.

He was safe here. He didn’t have to be faced with those heartbroken eyes. In fact, Tony would have been perfectly fine to just stay there indefinitely. But, if Steve knew him, which he did, then the blonde knew exactly where Tony was. And if Tony knew Steve, which he did, then he knew that Steve had known the whole time, and was just giving him time to cool off.

It wasn’t the fight. Of course it wasn’t. He and Steve had fought much more over much less. It wasn’t that. Maybe it was the realizations. The fact that he couldn’t lie to himself anymore; that he can’t pretend to not see his father every time he stepped in front of the mirror.

Tony only wished he’d seen it sooner. He could’ve spared Peter. Could’ve spared Steve.

He groaned, rubbing his hands over his worn face. He couldn’t deal with this now. The least he could do is find peace in his safe haven for a few more hours until Steve comes and drags him home. Or until he comes up with a better escape plan.

Tony walked back over to the lab table, grabbing a blowtorch and welding mask, slipping the metal cover his face as he started to take the Doombot apart. It was comforting, the sparks from the blowtorch, the sounds of metal reacting with the heat. See, this? Tony could do this. He could do this all damn day. He was good at it, the best at it. But everything was foreign when it came to being a family man. Tony could more easily explain string theory than how to change a dirty diaper.

After a sizeable hole was formed in the bots chest, Tony turned off the blowtorch, letting the metal cool before diving in hands first. Without the sounds of the blowtorch, the silence in the lab was deafening, but Tony made no inclination of turning on some music. His head was already pounding; the last thing he needed was him having an aneurism from AC/DC coupling with the agony that was already swirling inside his brain.

The silence, however, was cut off by soft steps approaching the lab. At first, Tony had thought it was Steve, no doubt coming to collect him. But while Steve had gotten better at his stealth, with extensive training with Natasha, the man always walked towards Tony with heavy steps because he knew how much Tony hated the idea of people sneaking up behind him.

Tony sighed. It must be Bruce. While on any other day Tony would love his consoling from his friend, he knew that there no way he could sit through any of his pitied looks today. “Go away, Bruce,” said Tony, starting to turn around. With the mask still on, Tony couldn’t make out much of the figure besides the shape of a white lab coat forming around it. “I’m working, and I’m really- ”

Tony was cut off by a icy pain in his lower gut. Gasping out, he clutched at his stomach immediately, whimpering as he heard his hands squelch over blood that was already pouring steadily from the wound.

Tony staggered, trying to reach for his phone, then fell quickly to the ground instead. He tried to take in huge gulps of air, but was cut off wet coughs, blood starting to fill up his throat. His vision started to wane; black dots danced in front of his eyes as his body reached an inferno as it continued to tear him apart.

The last thing Tony was able to think about was Steve and his little boy. And then there was nothing.

 

* * *

 

“Tony? Tony, you in here?” Steve walked into the large lab of Avengers headquarters, carefully pushing a stroller full of a dozing Peter.

Most of the lights were off, but that was hardly surprising. Due to the late hour, Steve knew he wouldn’t run into anyone else. It wouldn’t matter anyway; there was only one man he was looking for.

“Tony? Sweetheart?”

His steps and the wheels of the stroller echoed loudly off the floor, putting Steve on edge. Whether if it was at home at the tower or here at base, Steve always knew if Tony was there just from the pumping vibrations of the rock music he loved. But here, in the stillness of the lab, only silence answered Steve. Ignoring the gnawing feeling in his gut, Steve pushed the stroller towards Tony’s section of the lab.

“Tony? Come on, it’s late. Let’s go home, ok? You know I didn’t mean what I said. Look, I miss you. Peter misses you, right buddy?”  Steve looked down at his son, who offered a few small coos, but Tony still didn’t respond.

 _He probably fell asleep working again._ Steve couldn’t help but smile fondly, thinking about all the times that he walked into the lab to find Tony sprawled out over the current table he was working at. He always managed to drift off the strangest of positions, splayed limbs, papers pressed to his cheek as he drooled onto his latest project. It always warmed Steve’s heart, his favorite part being able to pick Tony up and cradle him in his arms as he brought them back home, watching as Tony always nuzzled deep into his chest.

“Please, Tony. Let’s go home.”

Steve deflated as he was met with more silence. This was all his fault. Sure he had been irritated that he had gone to bed alone, and Tony was no doubt on edge after a long engineering binge, but there was no excuse for what he had started. Steve’s mouth had gotten him into fights even when he was just a scrappy kid trying to survive the Great Depression. And while he’d taught himself never to back down, Steve wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and die after what he’d said today.

It was almost sickening that he had even thought of it at all. Tony was nothing like his father, the only thing comparing the two being the shared DNA they had. Tony was everything to him; he was _his._ His Tony, who worked through the weekend to build video game controllers that Thor couldn’t even break. His Tony, who had gone out of his way to build a library in the tower just because he’d seen Natasha reading one morning. His Tony, who stored herbal tea in almost every room in the tower so Bruce would always have some on hand. His Tony, who took Clint out in his suit just so he could hear him laugh, the archer always whooping through the air as he flew like he used to in the circus. His Tony, who always kept an open feed of Peter sleeping in his lab, just so he could hear his son’s tiny breaths as he worked. And his Tony, who spent a whole afternoon fixing Steve’s favorite radio, who let Steve drag him to every art gallery, who let Steve love him, who gave him a child. Who gave him life.

Even after he was defrosted, it wasn’t until Tony came into his life that Steve finally felt alive. Like it was Tony who had finally saved him from the ice. And Steve knew, of course, how little the man thought of himself. And Steve had told him, had _promised_ him in his vows, that he would spend the rest of his life proving that Tony was the most important thing to him.

And now look what he’s done. Steve could only pray that he could make this right. He knew that Tony would forgive him, but that just sickened him further. That Tony would always be so willing to forgive him, so willing to love him, after everything he’d done. He didn’t deserve any of it.

Steve pushed the stroller towards the final lab door. He could fix this. He _had_ to fix this.  

“Tony?”

He turned the corner and- _blood._

“TONY!”

Steve didn’t think, just reacting when he saw his husband lying still on the hard floor of the lab, resting in a pool of his own blood.

Steve sprinted over to Tony’s side, immediately finding the gaping wound in his chest. The blonde pressed down hard, frantic eyes trekking all over the husband’s injured body. He pulled an arm away to find Tony’s pulse, weak and sporadic.

“Tony?” he strained again, gently shaking his lover, trying to get a response. When Steve was only met with silence a flop of Tony’s head to the side, Steve’s blood ran cold. He scrambled through his jacket pocket, tearing his phone out. He slammed the Avengers alert into the phone and dialed for help.

“Hill! I need a med team down in the lab now! _Yes,_ the base; secure all the exits! Hurry, _please!”_

Not even bothering hanging up, Steve tossed the phone aside, bringing his hand to cup Tony’s face. He could hear Peter starting to cry in the background, but Steve could barely hear him over his own distress. His heart was pounding in his ears and his body trembled as he tried to wake Tony.

“Tony, come on. You gotta stay with me, ok? Wake up; let me see those eyes, sweetheart. Please, Tony, _you need to wake up!”_

Steve leaned farther over Tony, his tears falling from his cheeks to mix with the blood on the floor. Peter was wailing now, as if he himself felt the anguish his father was in. He could hear footsteps, the sounds of the medical team rushing to his side.

Hands were on him, pulling him away, but Steve’s eyes never left Tony’s closed ones as he tried to reach back for his husband. He couldn’t leave him. He _wouldn’t_ leave him. Just like Tony couldn’t leave him. Steve wouldn’t let him.

“ _Please_ ,” he whispered, willing the smaller man to hear him. “Please, wake up.”  


	3. Chapter 3

_Tony’s eyes snapped open. His mouth immediately started to form Steve’s name but stopped as he took in his surroundings. This wasn’t right. He could have sworn he heard Steve calling for him, but there was no one else here._

_Where is here?_

_Tony swiveled his head around, furrowing his brow. He was at the lab, wasn’t he? He had to have been. There was the Doombot, but something was wrong, something was-_

_A throat cleared behind him._

_Tony spun around, his body dropping into a defensive stance. Once he was faced with the other room’s occupant, however, he faltered, stumbling over his own body with shock. There, across the room, Tony was met with a pair of very familiar, cold eyes._

_“Dad?”_

 

* * *

 

Steve ran alongside the gurney with Peter clutched to his chest, not caring when he heard yet another angry shout as he ran into a new nurse. The doctors on the other side were shouting numbers that he couldn’t understand, an alarm was blaring loudly though speakers, Peter was still bawling into his neck, but Steve only had eyes for one man.

“Come on, Tony, you gotta fight,” he pleaded.

By the time the medical team had gotten down to Tony, Steve was inconsolable. It had taken five agents to finally pull him away his husband, and even then, Steve spent the rest of the time trying to get back to him. While Sam had been helping him get a handle on his PTSD, Steve knew that there would be no way anything could save him from this nightmare: Tony lying motionless in a pool of his own blood as Steve sat and watched helplessly.

Now, racing down the hallway in the med bay, Steve’s heart stuttered when he saw that the gauze pads they’d placed over Tony’s wound were already stained red, the man himself looking almost as pale as the sheets.

“Tony, please,” Steve continued, blatantly ignoring how his voice sounded more like a sob. “You’re gonna be alright, baby, you just gotta fight for me, ok?”

“Captain Rogers, you need to stand back,” a doctor’s hand shot out, trying to push Steve away.

Steve slapped the hand away. “I’m not leaving him,” he snapped. Steve watched as the nurse running with them rattled off more numbers to the doctor. “What’s she saying?” Steve demanded. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Mr. Stark has lost a lot of blood and is dying. Now, _please,_ get out of my way and let me try and save him.”

Steve stuttered to a halt watching as the gurney finally slipped away from him, his body freezing over more quickly than when he’d crashed into the Arctic.

 _Tony was dying._  

He couldn’t breathe. It was like he was stuck back in his old body, his asthmatic lungs struggling to get the air in. It was like watching Bucky fall from the train, his screams echoing through the mountain tops. It was like watching Peggy stare at him with confusion, asking for his name again. Everything was suddenly too loud, too fast. Walls were closing in, Steve’s head pounding as he finally felt himself break into-

“STEVE!”

Steve jolted, finally taking into the pair of hands that were shaking harshly on his shoulders. A hand moved from his arm, pushing Steve’s head until he was met with a familiar set of kind eyes. “Bruce,” Steve managed to breathe out.

Bruce returned a strained smile. “You back with me?” he asked with concern.

Steve shook his head slowly. “Tony…” he started.

Bruce held up a hand to stop him. “I know. I’m going in there right now with the surgeon, ok? I talked with the nurses to let you stay in the observation room while Tony’s in surgery.”

Steve shuddered. _Surgery._ “He’s dying, Bruce,” he whispered.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Bruce responded firmly. “Now, come on,” he continued, pushing Steve down the hall. “Let’s go get you and Peter settled.”

 

* * *

 

_T_ _ony gaped at his father. This wasn’t possible. What the hell was going on?_

_“Where am I?”_

_“Don’t be dull,” Howard drawled with disinterest. “Use your head. Figure it out.”_

_Tony whipped his head around, looking at the room. It was his dad’s old lab from when they used to live in the mansion. Similar to Tony’s, tech was strewn across the tables and floor, notes tacked up on all available wall space. The room was almost overpowered by the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey._

_“How did I get here?” Tony asked. “This…I can’t be here.”_

_Howard just shot him a bored stare, obviously not impressed with his answer. How did he get here? Tony closed his eyes as he tried to piece together what had happened. He was with Steve, but they were fighting. Tony’s jaw clenched as he remembered the shouting match between him and his husband. But he had left? Yes, he’d gone to the lab at the Avengers headquarters. He was working on a Doombot for Fury, and Bruce was there? No, that wasn’t right. There was someone there, and then-_

_Tony’s hands flew down to his stomach, searching for the wound. Something went wrong, someone had attacked him, and- oh._

_Tony let out a brittle laugh as the gears finally clicked in his head. “Ok, I understand what’s happening. I’m hallucinating.”_

_Howard snorted. “When most people get shot and end up in an alternate reality, they ask themselves if maybe they’re in heaven.”_

_Tony rolled his eyes. “Like either of us believe in that crap. Besides, we both know that if this were anywhere, it’d be hell. No. This isn’t real.”_

_Howard walked over to a lab table, sitting down, and began scribbling on a piece of paper. “And yet here you are, having a conversation with your dead father.”_

_“You’re not actually here. You’re not real,” Tony hissed. “I’m unconscious. I can’t control what my brain is thinking after I’ve been shot.” He walked around the lab slowly, his stomach churning at how accurate it was. “This place is just as dismal as I remember,” he mused. “The only thing that’s missing is my latest nanny that you were banging try and sneak out the back door.”_

_“Resulting to snark already, are we?” Howard replied, not even bothering to look up from his work. “I liked it better when you never talked.”_

_Tony balled his hands into fists. “I guess I’ve changed.”_

_Howard huffed out an empty laugh. “You most definitely have changed. And here I thought you couldn’t get any more disappointing.”_

_“I don’t have to listen to this,” Tony snapped. “I have a life now. I have a family.” Tony looked around the lab again, heart clenching as he thought of Steve and Peter. “I have to get back to them,” he said, mostly to himself._

_“That’s not your decision,” he heard Howard say._

_“Oh, sorry, Dad, I forgot that it’s yours, isn’t it? It’s always fucking yours. Your rules, your decisions, your life. God forbid I want to live my own.” Tony stomped over to the lab door, yanking on the handle, grunting as it barely moved._

_“You know what I’m going to say.”_

_“This is not real,” Tony retorted, pulling harder against the door. He needed to leave; he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be in here with him. “I have to get back!” The door finally started to give, white light pouring into the dim lab. He could hear Howard laughing behind him, but Tony paid him no mind. With a last burst of strength, Tony heaved the door open. Bright light surrounded him, burning into his eyes, as his body was pulled away into nothingness._

* * *

 

“His pressure’s up,” a doctor snapped, her voice almost tinny through the speakers.

Steve bit his lip, trying to figure out if that was a good or bad sign, watching the team of surgeons work on his husband from behind a large pane of glass. Peter made another unhappy noise from his stroller that was brought in by Bruce. Steve immediately shot a hand out to rock it back and forth, not taking his eyes off the EKG machine attached to Tony.

“You need to go up on the vasopressor.” That was Bruce. Steve tried to calm himself, knowing that with Bruce in there, Tony would get the best help he could.

“Why, thank you, Dr. Banner. We’d have never thought of that ourselves.”

Steve watched as Bruce’s eyes turn an alarming shade of green. “You listen to me. This man right here is my friend. If he dies on this table, you’re going to have to deal with me.”

The surgeon cleared his throat. “I apologize. You give us any damn advice you please. I’d just feel a lot better if we’d find that bullet.”

Steve’s brow furrowed, meeting Bruce’s equally confused stare. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing’s showing up on the X-rays,” a nurse responded. “There’s not even an exit wound.”

“But that’s not possible,” Bruce murmured, looking back down at Tony. “The bullet has to be behind some bone.”

Steve felt his heart rate pick up again. They couldn’t find the bullet, but Tony was already in critical condition. If the doctors start poking around in there looking for a bullet, it could mean disastrous things.

“We’ll have to take some more photos from different angles when he’s stable.”

Steve was just about to breathe in a sigh of relief when alarms started blaring on the machines. Steve was up in an instant, pressed up against the glass. “What’s happening?!” he shouted, eyes wide as he watched the medical team scramble into action.

“He’s going into V-tach! Grab the defibrillator!”

Steve watched in horror as Bruce tore open Tony’s medical gown, the doctors readying the charges.

“Clear!”

Tony’s body arched up against the bed before flopping back down, the EKG still flashing red.

“No, no, please,” Steve whispered at the scene unfolding in front of him.

Another charge was sent through his husband’s body. This time, as Tony collapsed back down on the bed, his lifeless face fell towards Steve.

“Tony!” he screamed, pounding against the glass. _This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening._ Tony couldn’t leave him. He promised.

_Tony’s shaking hands grabbed his as they stood at the altar. He cleared his throat nervously, biting his lip slightly before starting. “Steve. I can’t promise to remember when to eat, when to shower, when to come to bed. I’ll probably forget birthdays, anniversaries, hell, I’ll probably forget what day it is a few times. But I can promise you one thing. I promise to love you. I promise to make sure you understand that every single time I see you, I know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I promise to try my best to make you happy, to give you the life you’ve been waiting so long to have. A good life; the one you deserve. I promise to be there, for as long as you’ll have me. I won’t leave you. You’ll never be alone again.”_

_Steve shot him a blinding smile, laughing as tears streaked down his face as he plastered his lips against Tony’s, not waiting for permission from the priest._

“We’re losing him!”

“We’ve got no pulse, charge it up again!”

Someone was screaming; maybe it was him, who knows. All he knows is that all of a sudden, glass is shattering around him as his fist punched straight through the window. Hands were pulling him back away from the window, but Steve pushed back, desperately trying to get to Tony.

“Steve, stop!” Bruce was shouting. “Get him out of here!”

“Tony!” The agents were overpowering him, pulling him out the door as he continued to wail for his husband. He felt his body finally give up as sobs wracked through his body. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, because Tony, was gone, gone, _gone._

“Clear!”

_“TONY!”_


	4. Chapter 4

_“I told you. It’s not up to you whether or not you leave.”_

_Tony reopened his eyes, finding himself back in his father’s lab. He spun around, heart pounding as he watched Howard give him a vicious smirk. “You’re stuck in here with me, now.”_

_Tony shoved past him, running back over to the door, only to find that the handle was completely missing, barring any attempt to leave the room. He frantically ran in a circle, prying at the vents, throwing tools to attempt to break the windows, trying futilely to get back to his world. Finally giving up, Tony pressed his back against the cold wall, letting his legs give out and slip down to the floor. “I have to get back,” he whispered, mostly to himself._

_Howard snorted. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?”_

_Tony shot him a glare. “If I’m going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future you can sure as hell know that I’m not going to be spending it talking with you,” he hissed._

_“What, you don’t want to have some quality family time?”_

_“You are not my family,” Tony snapped. “I have my own family. I have a team, I’m married. I’ve got a son!”_

_Howard walked past Tony and sat back down at his desk. The familiar sight sent a harsh pang to his heart; Tony pleading with his father, only to be ignored for work. “Ah, yes. Tony Stark, the family man. A little old fashioned tactic if you ask me.”_

_“What the hell are you talking about?”_

_“Come on. Adopting a baby? That publicity stunt is overused in this day and age; anyone can walk down the street and pick up a kid now. If you want to convince the world that you’re a reliable individual, you’re going to have to try harder than that.”_

_“How dare you,” Tony gasped. “My son is not a publicity stunt.”_

_“I’m just saying you might as well use the brat to your advantage. Trust me; it works.”_

_“Why, because it worked so well for you?” Tony sneered, standing up to face his father._

_Howard shrugged. “You had your moments.”_

_Tony shook his head, turning away so Howard couldn’t see the tears that were starting to form in the corner of his eyes. His dad had been dead for decades, but even now, he still knew where to cut Tony. He was always good at that; that’s what made him so unbeatable in the board room. As soon as Howard Stark entered the room, there was no way any one would get out of their unscathed until the man got what he wanted._

_“It doesn’t matter. You say all you need to say; I won’t be listening. Because this,” Tony said gesturing to the room, “is not real. You’re not real. You’re dead, buried in the ground, and you can’t hurt me anymore. But since you’re here, I get to see the look on your face when I tell you that you failed. That I didn’t turn into the clone you wanted me to be. I’m not you, Dad.”_

_Howard finally put down his pencil, looking at Tony with his cold, calculating eyes. “You sure about that?”_

 

* * *

 

The familiar click of heels hitting the floor echoed loudly through the hallway.

"Steve?"

Steve jolted at his name, Peter making another distressed noise at the sudden movement. He looked up with bleary eyes to see Pepper smiling softly down at him. She looked as she always did; completely immaculate with her fitted suit and matching heels, her hair brushed back with not a single piece out of place. Because of years of friendship, Steve was actually able to see the true distress: her pale complexion, her usually clear eyes clouded in turmoil.

“Pepper,” he croaked out, wincing at how rough his voice sounded. “How did you- ”

“Bruce called me.”

Guilt washed over Steve. He hadn’t even remembered to call Pepper. How long had he been sitting there?

“Pepper, I- ”

A delicate hand grasped his arm gently. “It’s alright, Steve. You weren’t in the right mindset. Besides, you had other things to worry about.”

Steve’s breath hitched as his brain replayed Tony flopping around the hospital bed, the doctors screaming, the instruments blaring as they struggled to get his blood pumping again. "His heart stopped," Steve whispered brokenly. "Twice."

"He's stable now, Steve."

Steve shook his head. "But he was gone. He left me."

He heard Pepper sighed softly next to him. "But he came back. Just like he always does."

“He almost didn’t. God, if I were five minutes later- ”

“But you weren’t. You saved his life, Steve.”

“No, those doctors saved his life. I just sat by and watched him bleed out on the table.” Steve huffed out a hollow laugh. “What good is Captain America if he can’t even protect his own husband?”

“I’m not even going to start this argument with you; I’ll let Tony deal with this when he wakes up,” Pepper responded, her tone trying to come across as light. “Why don’t you go home and clean up? The doctors say it will be a while before he comes around.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Steve you really- ”

_“I am not leaving him.”_

Another sigh. “Alright then. Give Peter to me.”

Steve's grip tightened around the small child. He yanked away when he saw Pepper’s hands enter his field of vison to take his son away. “Don’t,” he snapped, letting his ‘Cap voice’, as Tony would say, slip out.

Of course, he should have realized that Pepper was not one of his teammates, and doesn’t bow to authority. If anything, it gets her more riled up. Her gentle fingers turned to stone as she gripped Steve’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact. “Steven Grant Rogers, you listen to me. Your son has been up for God knows how many hours, being lugged around by you pacing up and down this hallway. He probably hasn’t eaten all day, and is covered in both you and your husband’s blood. Give me the child.”

Steve looked down at his son, seeing that Pepper was right. Peter was wearing a face almost identical to Tony’s; one of fierce and grumpy determination, as the child tried to force himself to stay awake. His eyes were red rimmed from his earlier tears, no doubt matching Steve’s, and the Avenger onesie that Clint had gotten for the boy was almost unrecognizable with the dark stains that now blotched that cloth.

“Steve.” The blonde forced himself to meet Pepper’s gaze once again. “I know what you’re doing,” she continued, her voice soothing, like a warm blanket covering his shoulders. “I’m just going to take him back to the tower. I’m going to stay with him the whole night; I’ll even take Happy with me. Besides, JARVIS is still running with every single security protocol that Tony’s installed, not to mention the rest of your team will be on standby. No one will get close to touching Peter. He’ll be as safe as he possibly can be.”

Logically he knew Pepper was right. There was no place in the world that would be safer for Peter than the tower. But the thought of handing Peter over was like giving Pepper one of his limbs.

Pepper crouched down in front of him. “I’ll bring him back in the morning, I promise. Please, Steve. Let me help you.”

Steve clenched his eyes shut, nodding slightly as another tear slid down his cheek. Opening his eyes, he looked back down at Peter. “You’re going to go with Aunt Pepper, ok? You be a good boy for her, and I’ll see you in the morning.” He leaned down, pressing a firm kiss against his son’s head. “I love you so much. So does Daddy,” Steve whispered against the smooth forehead. As Pepper’s hands reached down again, Steve finally relented, trying to ignore the cold space that opened up after Peter was finally lifted form his arms.

Pepper’s hand caressed his cheek, wiping away another tear. “Everything’s going to be ok, Steve.”

“You know, the last time I saw him we had a fight.” Pepper’s eyes softened as Steve continued. “I yelled at him; For heaven’s sake Pepper, I called him Howard. I’ve never hated myself more than after the things I said to him. And then I went to the lab, and I saw him, and I just- ” Steve broke off into fresh sobs, his hands cupping his face, catching every single tear. “He was dying and I thought I was too late again. Too late to tell him that I was sorry or that I loved him. I thought I wouldn’t be able to tell him that ever again.”

A kiss brushed across his hairline. “ _Everything is going to be ok,”_ Pepper repeated. “You know that you didn’t mean anything you said. But more importantly, Tony knows that. Don’t concern yourself with what-if’s. Your husband is in the other room, and he’s alive. That’s all that matters. Now you’re going to go in there, and sit with him until he wakes up. And when he does wake up, you’re going to fix this. You understand, soldier?”

Steve tried to muster up a smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

 Pepper patted his cheek. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, the redhead and her heels clicked back down the hallway, his son already dozing in her arms.

Finally alone, Steve was left with his thoughts. He bit his lip before reaching down for his phone. He dialed the number quickly, happy to find it picked up on the first ring.

“Where are you?”

_“Still in the lab. Another agent was found dead on the floor above Tony and the security footage has been tampered with. Looks like we’ll need to do some old school sleuthing for this one.”_

Steve ignored Clint’s attempt at a joke. “Anything missing?”

_“No. Nothing’s been messed with that I can see. The guy passed right over the Doombot Tony was working on as well.”_

Steve sighed. “None of this makes sense.”

 _“Not yet, but Nat and I will find answers, don’t worry.”_ There was a pause on the phone. _“How is he?”_

Steve swallowed. “He’s in critical condition, but he’s stable. He’s out of surgery now, but who knows when they’ll let me see him again.”

He heard Clint snort over the line. _“Oh yea, I heard about your little snafu with the window.”_

“Tony had no pulse,” Steve hissed.

 _“Easy, killer,”_ Clint placated. _“Just trying to lighten the mood.”_

“I know, I just- ” Steve breathed out slowly. “I need answers.”

_“Relax, Steve. We’re on it.”_

“I trust you. And, Clint?”

_“Yea?”_

“Find me that shooter.”

_“Yes, Sir.”_


	5. Chapter 5

_“Drink?”_

_Tony pushed Howard’s alcohol filled hand out of his face. “I don’t want it,” he snapped. “I don’t need it. I’m trying to be better for my son.”_

_Howard snorted into the glass he was drinking. “Please. You haven’t changed your drinking habits because of some kid.”_

_“It’s never too late to start,” answered Tony. “Peter’s worth it.”_

_“Peter,” Howard hissed. “A weak name. How fitting.”_

_Tony stood up in a flash, huffing angrily as he paced around the lab. “You don’t get to do that,” he grit out, pointing a finger at his father. “You spent years dragging me through the mud, but you will not do that to my son.”_

_“He’s my grandson.”_

_“No, he’s not!” Tony shouted. “And let me tell you, I wake up with the biggest smile on my face every day knowing that he has and never will have a connection with you.”_

_“Well, with a name like Peter, I don’t know if I’d want to have a connection with him,” Howard sneered._

_“Will you just- ” Tony broke off with a sigh. “I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this. I’m surprised you don’t approve of the name; Steve picked it out.”_

_“Don’t you bring Steve into this,” Howard hissed._

_Tony gaped at the man. “Wow, never thought I’d hear you say that one. Thanks for confirming this isn’t real; there was never a moment where you didn’t wanna hear about Steve.”_

_“I don’t want to hear about how you poisoned him,” Howard returned._

_“Poisoned?” Tony scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about?”_

_“You heard me, boy. There is no way that Steve Rogers should have ended up with a stain such as yourself. You talk about tainting innocence, but you’ve gone ahead and defiled a national hero.”_

_“Can you even hear yourself?” Tony asked. “I didn’t do anything to Steve! He is who he is. He chose his life, he chose me!”_

_“Steve Rogers wouldn’t choose to be associated with, and turn into one no less, some homosexual freak show!”_

_Tony saw red. He charged forward, punching Howard straight across the face, the older man collapsing to the floor. “Shut your goddamn mouth,” Tony hissed venomously. “I may be stuck with you, but this is my head, my dream. You can sit here and tear me a new one, but you WILL NOT say a single fucking think about MY HUSBAND and MY SON. Do you hear me? You have no right to say anything about them; you don’t even deserve to say their names. They are everything that you’re not; they’re perfect, and they’re mine. You don’t get to have them, I won’t let you. You don’t get that luxury.”_

_While Howard hadn’t been expecting the punch, he sat there staring at Tony with the same look he always wore whenever Tony snapped back at him. The Howard Stark patented ‘are you don’t yet?’ face, complete with raging eyes and smug sneer, always giving away the fury that was about to unfold._

_“Well, well, well,” Howard replied calmly, as he stood. He smoothed out the lines of his shirt before retreating to pour himself another drink. “I thought you would have gotten better at this, but I see nothing’s changed. You’re still just the same scared little boy trying to be a hero.”_

_“I am a hero,” Tony retorted, holding his chin up in defiance._

_“What, did Steve tell you that?” Howard snorted. “Please, he’s Captain America. He’s obligated to tell all the kids that they’re special.”_

_Tony gulped. “Steve loves me.”_

_“Does he? Or does he love the idea of you?” Howard questioned. “Think about it. Steve’s a soldier, a strategist. He was thrust into a new century, basically making it foreign ground to him. Of course he would flock to someone like you. You’re the one carrying the big stick; you give him the security he needs. You’re just a ship that he needs to fight the storm of the 21 st century. News flash, kid. One day, he’s going to find land; he’ll be able to find solid footing on the ground beneath him. He won’t need the boat after that. He won’t need you.” _

_Tony balled his hands into fists, closing his eyes, not even daring to respond. No. His dad was wrong. Steve loved him. He married Tony. They have a family together. That wasn’t strategy; that was love._

_“Your life is not some Hallmark card,” his father said. “Happy endings like that don’t exist.”_

_Again, Tony didn’t answer, relenting to just lean against the back wall. Howard was talking again, but Tony didn’t care. He’d get through this; he had to. He had to get back to his family. Had to get back to Steve._

_A sudden wave of nausea had Tony stumbling forward, his body off kilter. His body pulsed, his vision swimming. Black dots danced in front of him as the lab tilted. “What’s happening?” Tony whispered._

_Howard must have understood what was happening, because he slammed his drink down and charged at Tony. “I don’t think so,” Howard muttered. “We’re not done, you and I.”_

_Tony reared forward, ready to land another blow across the fury on his father’s face when the scene in front of him broke, slipping away like fog, everything going black._

 

* * *

 

The steady beeping of the monitors Tony was set up to was a welcome annoyance. Anything to prove that Tony was alive and well, his heart beating as stubbornly as ever.

Steve reached forward with a trembling hand, finally clean of both of their blood, lightly grasping Tony’s. He traced over each of Tony’s fingers, counting the calluses as he went. Steve had always loved Tony’s hands, how they were such an enigma. That even though, in Steve’s eyes, Tony was an artist, his hands were the farthest things from their typical limb type. His skin raw, hardened and cracked instead of delicate. His fingers were short and stocky instead of the long ones needed to hold a paintbrush. But they represented Tony perfectly. His palette was metal and fire, not watercolors. It was a reflection of Tony, Steve thought. Rough around the edges, strong and durable; cracked and chipped away in some places, but always fresh skin underneath, always regrowing, never giving up. Sturdy and rough when needed, but still always managing to be gentle.

Steve let his head sag against this chest, his temple pounding. _Not much longer,_ Bruce had said. Tony should be coming around shortly, but Steve found himself at a loss for words. What could he possibly say to him, when he wanted to say everything? _I’m sorry. I love you. Forgive me. I love you. I’m here. I won’t leave you. I love you. Don’t do that to me again. I’m so sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you._

Steve knew it would be useless in the end. There would never be enough words to convey to Tony what he was feeling right now. What he had felt as Tony’s life slipped away in his arms.

He heard a moan, so faint that Steve first thought it was a breeze coming out of the vents. But as it got louder, Steve realized that it was Tony, his head turning slightly as he tried to fight his way back into consciousness.

“Tony?” Steve saw his husband’s head move towards him, as if tracking his voice.

Tony’s eyes fluttered and Steve was sure he heard a soft moan of his name.

Steve tightened his hold on Tony’s hand, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s right, sweetheart. I’m here.”

This time, Tony’s eyes actually cracked open, revealing hazy brown eyes. It was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen. Tony’s eyes dragged slowly around the room, finding something to latch on to. Once they made contact with Steve’s red-rimmed ones, Tony’s eyes drew into focus.

“-eve?” Tony tried again.

Steve gave him the biggest smile he could muster up. “Hey, Shellhead,” Steve whispered fondly.

Tony squinted, the engineer’s mind no doubt whirling, trying to piece the events together. “Wha-where?”

“You’re in the med bay. Do you remember what happened?”

“I-I was in the lab,” Tony started, furrowing his brow.

Steve brought Tony’s hand up to his lips, kissing it softly. “You were shot. It’s ok now; you’re going to be alright.”

Tony’s eyes fluttered, muttering a few unintelligible words. He shifted slightly against the pillows, wincing slightly as he jarred his middle. “But-but I was dreaming,” Tony whispered. “I didn’t…I don’t understand.”

Steve shushed him, bringing his other hand to push it through Tony’s dark locks. “You don’t have to understand, ok? Everything’s going to be ok, now. I’m going to keep you safe.”

“It was cold,” Tony replied quietly, his eyes drifting away again. “When I got shot.”

Steve tasted iron in his mouth as he bit his lip to stop him from screaming. The pain and the shock must have caused Tony to feel so cold. Of course, now Steve was only picturing a freezing Tony, sinking beneath layers and layers of ice, all alone. Without thinking twice, Steve clambered on the bed, careful not to jostle any of the tubes connected to Tony, wrapping the smaller man in his arms. “I’ll keep you warm,” Steve said in a shaky voice, kissing the spot behind Tony’s ear.

Tony pushed back weakly, falling further into Steve’s embrace. “Where’s Peter?”

“Pepper has him. She’ll take good care of him.”

It was quiet for a while, but Steve knew Tony hadn’t fallen back asleep. If anything, Tony was being as stubborn as ever and forcing himself to stay awake, if only to try and get out of the med bay quicker. He turned slightly, towards Steve. He must have finally felt the wet patch that was slowly accumulating on his back from Steve’s tears.

“Steve?”

“You flat lined,” Steve choked out. “You left me.”

Steve felt Tony suck in a quick breath, but didn’t respond, opting to instead grab at one of Steve’s hands, linking them together. Steve clutched back tightly, gripping Tony as a life line. “How long?” Tony finally asked.

“Two minutes,” Steve replied wetly. “You were dead for two minutes.”

Silence, again.

“I’m here now, Steve.”

“You shouldn’t be. _We_ shouldn’t be here. We should be at home, curled up in our bed. You should be working on your tablet and pretending not to pay attention to the cheesy rom-com I’m watching. You should be yelling at me for stealing all the blankets and I should be grumbling about how you spread out over most of the bed even though you should be taking up less space. We should be falling asleep after kissing each other stupid, only to wake up to do it all again. That’s where we should be.”

Tony tried to flip over to look at him, but stopped with another gasp of pain. Steve tightened his hold around him, trying to cocoon him the best he could. “Don’t move so much. Just try and relax.”

Tony grumbled, but relented, leaning back into Steve. “Steve, I- ”

“Please, Tony. Just don’t.” Steve knew exactly what the man was going to do. He would try and apologize. That after everything, Tony would still try and put all the blame on himself. Steve couldn’t bear it. Not now. “Just let me hold you, alright?”

Tony tensed in his arms, but nodded softly. No other words were spoken, just their breathing which had easily synced back up with one another. It wasn’t long before Tony’s breaths evened out again, the man pulled back out of consciousness.

Another stream of tears fell down Steve’s face. “I love you,” he whispered into his husband’s hair as he started to gently rock him, humming a long forgotten melody.


	6. Chapter 6

The pair walked together, their combat boots echoing loudly in the hallway.

“Here’s a list of everyone that was in the building at the time of the shooting,” Natasha said, handing Clint a small file while gesturing over to a small group of people that had been collected into the briefing room.

“Suspects?” Clint asked, reading the names.

“Witnesses,” Natasha corrected. “All evidence points to the shooter fleeing from the scene after the hitting up the lab. We’re hoping that someone saw him.”

Clint hummed. “What about the other agent? The one that was killed?”

“Newbie. He hadn’t been here for more than six months. His badge got the shooter into Tony’s lab.”

“Security cameras?”

Natasha sighed. “Disabled at the time of the shooting.”

“Come on, Nat. You’ve gotta give me something. Steve’s in the hospital with the mental state that could lead to an act of terrorism. That man is going to tear up the entire state of New York if we don’t get him any answers.”

“Relax,” Natasha soothed. “I’ll start with the interrogations, you go see if the lab has anything leads, ok?”

Clint nodded, already breaking away towards the elevator. The descent into the labs was a short one, but Clint knew that there wouldn’t be any amount of time to prep for what he was walking into.

Avengers HQ housed many floors of labs, but this one, upon a certain billionaire’s insistence, was specifically made for Tony and Bruce. It was an extension of the one back at the Tower; anything they found on missions or anything they couldn’t fit back at home was brought to this lab. Basically, it ended up being a stash pile for all the things that Steve classified as ‘too dangerous’ to bring into the Tower. Which, on principal, was pretty hilarious considering the people occupying the building were some of the most dangerous in the world.

Oddly enough, the space wasn’t used too much. Every once in a while Clint would feel the vibrations in his feet from rock music that was blaring from below, Tony obviously gathering to wait for Steve to finish the latest mission briefing. Other times he’d stumble down there, the smell of Bruce’s herbal tea leading him into the lab space. Mostly it was just used as a safe haven, a quick getaway. Tony would hole up in there for a day to avoid the aftermath of a fight with Steve; Bruce would sit in silence, head buried in his research after a particularly nasty encounter that called for The Hulk.

Stepping into the lab this time, however, seemed wrong. Nothing was as it should be. Men in suits trampled through the lab like they owned the place, digging through research and poking around where they shouldn’t. Clint clenched his jaw as he ripped one of Tony’s notebooks out of some agent’s hands. “Excuse me,” he hissed. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The agent shot him a dirty stare. “I’m investigating. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but this is an active crime scene.”

“Yes, and Tony Stark is the _victim_ not the _suspect,”_ Clint snapped in response. “Why don’t you do something useful like find info that will help me catch the culprit before I start shooting everyone until I find him myself. Spoiler alert; I’m going to start with you.”

_“Clint.”_

The archer tensed, whipping around to find a frazzled Bruce Banner. The doctor turned to say something to the agent, but the kid had already scampered off to lick his wounds. Bruce swiveled to glare back at Clint, but he wasn’t having any of it. “Don’t give me that look, Bruce. Are you telling me you’re just going to sit here and watch them sift through all our stuff?”

“If it means finds answers for Tony, then yes,” Bruce nodded.

Clint tore his gaze away, frowning as men continued to tear apart the lab. “How is he?”

Bruce gave him a tired smile. “Depends. Are you asking about Tony or Steve?”

Clint snorted as he fell into step besides Bruce, the man leading him further into his half of the lab. “Both, I suppose,” he finally answered.

“Tony will be fine,” Bruce assured. “There were a few close calls, but he pulled through. I shouldn’t have been worried. That man will outlive death himself on pure stubbornness alone. Steve on the other hand, is a completely different story.”

“Can you blame him?” Clint was just as ready to spill some blood.

“No, but that’s what worries me. Steve isn’t the only one that’s ready to throw everything away if that means that Tony will get some justice.”

Clint nodded tersely. He should have known that the rest of the team would have been rearing to go as well. Despite their extremely shaky start, the team was now closer than most families, probably teetering on the path of codependency. If one of them fell, they all did.  “Then we better find this guy fast before things get out of hand.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Bruce answered, showing Clint into a glass encased section of the lab. There, laying on a cold slab in front of them, surrounded by a few other doctors, was the other agent that had been shot.

Clint crinkled his nose. “Since when do you autopsy?”

“Since my friend was shot and left to bleed out not one hundred feet away from here,” Bruce replied evenly, walking back over to the body. “And since we aren’t getting the answers we should be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Should be pretty simple,” Bruce said. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen, massive internal bleeding.”

Clint looked expectantly as Bruce. “I’m feeling there’s going to be a ‘but’.”

“ _But_ ,” Bruce agreed. “There’s no bullet and no exit wound.”

“How is that possible?” Clint leaned over the table to inspect the body in front on him. “There’s a clear trajectory here. There has to be something.”

Bruce shook his head. “There isn’t. It’s the same thing with Tony. I was in there for the surgery, Clint. There wasn’t a single bullet in him.”

“How the hell is it possible to shoot two people and not leave any bullets?” Clint asked. “You don’t think,” he started again, horror etching onto his face, “that he dug the bullets back out, right? I’ve seen it before. Some assassins don’t want to leave any clues behind, any part of the bullet that could potentially be tracked to them.”

“I thought about that, but no. Trust me, we’d be able to tell if someone else had been digging into their bodies.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” Clint murmured.

“I got off the phone with Steve,” Bruce continued. “He said Tony was cold when he was shot. As I’m sure you know, most people usually describe it as a burning sensation.”

“Cold?” That wasn’t right. Clint had lost count of the number of times he’d been shot, but he’d never felt cold. “No way,” he whispered.

“What?”

“You ever hear of an ice bullet?”

Bruce levelled him with another glare. “You’ve been watching too many sci-fi movies, Clint.”

“I’m serious, Bruce!”

“Clint, no one has ever managed to do a successful test on one.”

Clint crossed his arms, defensively. “Think about it. Cold at the entry wound and no bullet. You got any other theories?”

Bruce sighed. “No, I guess not. I’ll throw a test together. See if you can find anything else for me.”

 

* * *

 

“That’s all we got?”

Steve stared down at Clint, the archer barely recognizable with his crumpled outfit and tired, dead eyes. “The ice bullet theory? Yea, that’s it.”

Steve clenched his jaw. “We’ve got over thirty people working on this and you’re telling me all we have is some half assed conspiracy theory?”

 “Steve, I can understand why this is frustrating for you.”

“Really? Do you?” Steve snapped. “Because you don’t. I don’t think you do.”

“Everyone’s doing their best, Steve. I wanna find this guy as much as you.”

Steve bit his lip, tearing his eyes away to look down the hallway where Tony was still sleeping. Logically, he knew that the team was doing everything they possibly could help Tony, but every time he saw the brunette lying frail in that hospital bed, Steve was sent back over the deep end. “How is he doing?” Clint probed.

Steve shrugged. “Improving, I think.”

“And you?”

“We had a fight before he was shot,” Steve replied softly. “I said some things. Hell, I basically told Tony that he was a bad father, Clint. Why would I say something like that? How could that thought ever cross my mind? This whole time I’ve been sitting here thinking that what if that was the last thing he thought about? I mean, he’s a great father Clint, and I just- ”

“I know,” Clint comforted, bracing a hand on Steve’ shoulder. “You didn’t mean it. You know that. More importantly, he knows that.”

Steve shook his head. “Does he?”


End file.
